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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29429907">Bargainers, not beggars</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seek_The_Mist/pseuds/Seek_The_Mist'>Seek_The_Mist</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arrangement of opportunity, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, In this Adam is 17 and Declan is 25, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Pre-Canon, Relationship Negotiation, Sugar Daddy, slight dubcon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:47:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,595</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29429907</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seek_The_Mist/pseuds/Seek_The_Mist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Aglionby Academy is too expensive, purposefully unaccessible, and Adam still wants in. Trying to find his way through the loopholes and the exceptions lands him into a precipitous arrangement with a stranger.<br/><br/><br/><i>“That would be…” Amazing. Stunning. A dream. “...A welcome possibility, I think.” </i></p><p>  <i>“Undoubtedly an efficient deal, provided that we come to an agreement,” Declan nodded, apparently impervious to a panic that Adam suspected might be blatant on his part.</i><br/><br/><b>Filling a Declan/Adam Festival prompt: "It depends on what you're willing to do."</b></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Declan Lynch/Adam Parrish</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>88</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Declan/Adam Prompt Festival</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. ~1~</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachKid/gifts">PeachKid</a>.</li>



        <li>In response to a prompt by
            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachKid/pseuds/PeachKid">PeachKid</a>  in the  <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/collections/declanadamfest">declanadamfest</a>
          collection.
        </li>
    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>After sitting on this for three ages and a half I FINALLY manage to wrap up this prompt! </p><p>I have way too many ideas for this pairing, and even more so for this pairing in this AU, but let's finally put the core of it out there.</p><p>Please give a read to the tags and if the pairing is not your thing and/or the vibes implied are not your thing click on the back button. Otherwise, please enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing this!</p><p>As usual, thanks to Tilly for the betaing support and to Aurum for the endless cheerleading!!!</p><p>PeachKid, sorry for the wait, but I hope this is everything you might have wanted!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"You might have to jump through some hoops," Mrs Hayers had told Adam, after having let him read through a pile of leaflets. "But if anyone can do it, Parrish, I do believe it's you."</p><p>Adam didn't get to keep the leaflets — didn't want to. Having them anywhere close to his possessions, even just in his locker at Mountain Hill High, felt like a blatant provocation for the universe and Robert Parrish to do their best at annihilating this plan before it even started.</p><p>But he remembered the coat of arms imprinted at the centre of the pages, the way <i>Aglionby Academy</i> flashed at the upper corner throughout the brochure. Most of all, he remembered the outrageous one liner, thrown there like an afterthought:</p><p>"21% of top graduates in the last ten years continued their scholarly careers in an Ivy League university."</p><p>He knew, of course, that almost all of these people had benefited from alumni parents and/or some helpful donation of a study hall here, a library there.</p><p>For them, it meant nothing. But for Adam, it could mean everything. It could be what would turn a straight-As-average scholastic career into a future. He harboured no illusion that a straight-As from Mountain Valley High could be Ivy League worthy. Neither did Mrs Hayers, who, before retiring, kept pushing and pushing on Adam with extra assignments until she had landed on the limit of what he could handle and found it worthy.</p><p>"Luckily for you, Aglionby is just around the corner. Step on them as a ladder, Parrish, what do you say?"</p><p>From the first bug in his thoughts to the leaflets, it had been a matter of half a year and a cracked rib that had made breathing agonising for way too long.</p><p>What else can you say to a way out when the walls are closing in?</p><p>The plan was simple and still required a lot of luck to execute: chase the last hours of the Fall Open Days, gather any information missing from the leaflet and register on the spot for the entrance exam. This heavily relied on his English teacher's chronic absenteeism and not having purple bruises on his face that day.</p><p>It was doable. Adam made it so.</p><p>That didn't exactly save him from the critical point that emerged from his chat with a markedly unimpressed middle-aged man in a suit that cost more than Adam had earned that year.</p><p>First, of course, there was the tuition. It hadn't been on the leaflet, because that would be crass, which was also why the numbers were handed to him on a piece of paper and never spoken out loud.</p><p>Second, and related, there was something that Adam definitely had not not planned for.</p><p>"Oh, I'm afraid we do not offer scholarship coverage," the guy said, without bothering to add a <i>sir</i> at the end, even though he had with the prospective student before Adam. But Adam had come in as the very last, no witnesses and looking every inch the public school renegade he was. "I hope you understand."</p><p>The words were accompanied by a tilt of the head that seemed to suggest that Adam should go look around himself. The grounds were spotless, the buildings quiet and elegant. Adam did not need to be told that offering a scholarship for this kind of place would lower its standing.</p><p>But perhaps, exactly because Adam was the very last and no one else shared his predicament, the guy kept talking.</p><p>"But we do have a flourishing alumni society that takes great pride in keeping connected to our community." The guys huffed, conveying the same baroque tones of the brochure. "There have been some cases in which some <i>sponsorship</i> has been granted."</p><p>No rules, just exceptions that could be sold as something else, with the type of deniability someone like Adam could never breach.</p><p>Through the pang of annoyance, Adam desperately wanted an in.</p><p>"Of course, sir," he said, with that nondescript way that he knew people that felt above him wanted to hear to make sure he knew his place. It was not unlike his father, but at least this had a purpose.</p><p>"We traditionally hold a dinner with the alumni association before the end of the term," the guy provided, with a little nod. Just a statement and again no suggestion of Adam asking favours throughout the reception. "This is, of course, provided you pass the entrance exam."</p><p>If the previous determination hadn't been sufficient, the tone of that <i>provided</i> set Adam even more squarely on the mission.</p><p>He was not going to pass that exam, he was going to <i>smash it</i>.</p><p>Planning for the undercover scholarship could be dealt with later.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Test smashed and letter of acceptance obtained — at the cost of having to arrange his turns to be the one that caught the mailman at 6 am every day — Adam was left with the nauseous feeling of being one step closer and a huge leap away at the same time.</p><p>He had to consider, suddenly, that he had no idea of what a cocktail reception entailed, or how to dress for it after having seen the Aglionby standards for an open day.</p><p>Even getting to the doors of what was apparently <i>the Crimson Hall</i> of the Aglionby Academy — set as a spotless period drama, and yet deputied to <i>informal gatherings in a relaxed environment</i> — already required a stupid amount of effort. To beg the evening off Boyd and simultaneously implore for an advance paycheck, to rush through six different second hand and charity shops trying to put together an outfit. To cycle, finally, through Henrietta and Aglionby, and change in the woods like a thief after having wasted no less than six wet wipes to clean himself off. Adam had stood half naked in the cold air until the sweat had dried completely on his skin and then redressed with new clothes, just a little broken mirror to put himself in check.</p><p>The obsessive punctuality he observed meant, of course, that he spent the best part of the time between 8 and 8.30 pm in the sole company of waiters that looked better dressed than he felt. The impression only worsened when some actual attendees began to show up, and even then it started with other students, as young as him or even younger.</p><p>The later the appearance, the better the dress and composure. The correlation made itself quickly self-evident.</p><p>Around 8.30, some students arrived in the company of much older men, with an obvious father-son dynamic and some golden Aglionby pin shining off the men's lapels.</p><p>As he wasn't there for a selfless play-pretend with the sole purpose of burning his dignity, Adam steadily began a painstaking exercise of discernment. There would be no point in approaching alumni that were here with their sons, and somehow he felt that everyone in the median curve of forty-five years old would be a waste of effort — middle age and middle of career very rarely associated with support in any form, in Adam's experience.</p><p>On top of this, there was another list — one that Adam had constructed in the seventeen minutes he spent alone with a program booklet, before anyone else had deigned the room with their presence. It was the type of feature everyone was currently disregarding, but Adam's heart had jumped in his chest seeing a list of confirmed attendees, each of them with an alma mater and a current profession.</p><p>Swimming in very unfamiliar waters and with no actual idea of how to resurface from their depths, Adam had only one certainty: if he had to entertain someone for even just a hope of a sponsoring charade, it was going to be an Ivy League graduate.</p><p>This, of course, came with the added difficulty of crossing both lists in the blind, as no one of the organisers thought of giving out name tags. God forbid something made Adam's life easier, for once.</p><p>The long climb had started with some other fellow students, studiously ignoring the way some of them evidently had the instinct of handing Adam their empty glasses of bubbling grape juice posturing as wine.</p><p>He wasn't the help, he wouldn't let the prickling of humiliation steer him away. Furthermore, he was absolutely positive he knew more of the history of the judiciary system in the United States than these haughty thirteen year olds did.</p><p>"The bailing system is not really extensively introduced worldwide, it's usually pinned as an American thing," Adam interjected in a fairly unfunded back and forth.</p><p>The younger students looked at him as though startled that Adam not only could speak, but could use his words towards them. </p><p>"Well, it's surely an exclusive with its merit, if one focuses on the situation from the point of efficiency," one of the members of the group countered, running his eyes up and down Adam. He didn't have to say, <i>instead of looking at it like you're too poor to understand</i>. The scoff over the edge of the glass conveyed it perfectly.</p><p>Before Adam could decide how to tackle the rage spreading inside him like a burning disease, someone appeared at the corner of his vision. </p><p>"I can provide you the figure that bailing as an approach to certain classes of crimes has been on the rise." The interruption came from a very distinguished man in his fifties, with a receding hairline of whitening hair and the type of smoothness in his skin that money could buy with the same ease of his three piece suit. "But what would you make of that, young man?"</p><p>It took Adam an embarrassing long time to understand that the man was talking to him, not the younger students. Men like this one didn't call him <i>young man</i>, they strode into Boyd's garage and tossed him the keys without soiling their eyes with the grease on his hands.</p><p>Adam had gone to great lengths in the high school bathroom, with cheap soap and cold water, to get rid of any residual black streak. And this sounded like a test. He could always, <i>always</i> do tests, especially when the Crimson Hall itself spoke about the expectations.</p><p>"I believe it's an efficient method to deal with a number of modern crimes," Adam leaped off, the thought only half-formed and chasing after his words to complete itself. "It's an effective deterrent that can be left to the judge discernment even if the legislation can be lacking."</p><p>No one in this room would be interested to discuss how many crimes they could afford by virtue of their wallet, so Adam didn't even mention it. Surely not with his voice that constantly threatened a full-on drawl. Henrietta would never grant him the privilege that permeated this room, but Aglionby could give him the means. A way out.</p><p><i>Step on them like a ladder</i> — but Adam wanted to be part of the staircase, also.</p><p>Laughter came as Adam was still trying to gauge the man's reaction to his answer, more open than the fake courtesy that everyone seemed to reserve for each other in the hall. More derisive, maybe.</p><p>"Do you plan to run through the syllabus of the 102 course in full, Michael?"</p><p>The man who asked this was much younger, turning away from a waiter with a fresh champagne glass in his left hand.</p><p>Adam's quick assessment of him had to run in parallel with trying to cross his lists of attendees. </p><p>The first impression was that he was tall. The second, despite himself, was that he was attractive — dark hair with curls that stayed impeccably coiffed away from his face, strong jaw, perfect smile that didn't fully extend to his blue eyes. He should have been notable, but Adam had focused on him only when he raised himself to the group's attention, and not a second before. </p><p>"Not quite, Declan, but you can't fault an old man the wish to hear some young arguments."</p><p>"Not my place to fault you anymore, not after the last seminar," the man — Declan — mused. "I don't know how entertained the actual youngsters are, though."</p><p>At this, he looked at Adam, a cue for an answer.</p><p>A now-or-never, for a <i>poignant answer</i>.</p><p>There were five Michaels on the list, but only one Declan Lynch, alumnus, Harvard Law. And among the Micheals, only one that could have a 102 or a seminar through a shiny Columbia University affiliation.</p><p>Adam's heart thumped against his eardrums as he took the leap, barely breathing.</p><p>"A conversation with Professor Nabb is quite inspiring, sir," Adam said.</p><p>The middle aged man — Michael L. Nabb — blinked with an honest surprise and a pleased smile at the recognition, and Adam almost didn't hear the inane exchange that followed. He could only feel himself smile tensely through the panicked drumming of his heart, slow to subside — and Declan Lynch's eyes, piercing at the side of his head.</p><p>When the group moved ahead, following Prof Nabb's desire of showing off a particular commemorative plaque, Adam lingered behind, his glass too tight in his hand and fully aware that Declan was not quite moving either.</p><p>"What would you have done," Declan asked in a casual tone, "if he had been Michael Somerville instead of Nabb?"</p><p>Adam swallowed tightly. "You mentioned a 102 course and a seminar, sir."</p><p>A lopsided smile, "Did I?"</p><p>It was difficult to make sure that his cheeks were <i>not</i> burning. "Thank you, sir."</p><p>"You're welcome," Declan replied with ease, sipping champagne. "Your tie is crooked, which would be more charming if it weren't too big for you."</p><p>Now his cheeks were definitely burning, and tucking his chin in to uselessly try to eye his own tie only made Adam feel more frustratingly ridiculous. Exposed, even. He stayed silent, but Declan didn't leave him to simmer in his own shame.</p><p>"Walk with me, I'll show you the porch."</p><p>It wasn't really a question, so Adam complied rather than answering. If anything, at least, the cold air that welcomed them outside made him feel more capable of dragging his expression and flush under control.</p><p>"What's your name?" Declan asked, once they were outside, fully lit by the tall glass windows of the hall. </p><p>The golden light disappeared into darkness quickly as the garden extended away from the building, and the trees that surrounded Aglionby appeared almost menacing, rather than something innocuous that currently hid most of Adam's mundane belongings.</p><p>"Adam Parrish…" he started, before taking yet another leap, "Mr Lynch."</p><p>At this, Declan laughed openly, as if Adam had been particularly bold and entertaining. "God, you're clever." </p><p>"You're in Harvard Law," Adam countered, incapable of filtering all the envy and the yearning off his voice, even though this rich stranger might very well use Adam's desires against him.</p><p>"That I am," Declan conceded, tilting his almost empty glass towards Adam. "You want to end up there?"</p><p>"...Maybe."</p><p>"But you've got to start from here."</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"How old are you?"</p><p>"Seventeen," Adam replied without even giving himself time to inhale, as if stuck in an exam with a strict professor that might take any hesitation as a failure. </p><p>"Junior year."</p><p>"Junior year."</p><p>Confirming gave Adam the usual surreal vertigo of knowing how close he was to the end of high school. Months could trickle by so fast, he could get out — if he could just get to the point of a one-way ticket, with the only acceptance letter that really mattered.</p><p>"So you'll need two years of tuition sponsorship."</p><p>Declan's voice cut through the spirals of Adam's thoughts only to lock him on a completely different path. It was an effort, not to gape over it and betray completely an earnestness that hadn't been really concealed to begin with. Not having to introduce the subject made it less awkward for Adam — and at the same time, they were following Declan's pace and expectations.</p><p>Adam had no clue on how to manoeuvre through them, if not for the only thing that apparently caught Declan's attention before.</p><p><i>You're clever</i>.</p><p>"Yes, sir," he nodded, mind racing. "The standard tier…"</p><p>"I know the tiers," Declan interrupted him with an ease that didn't even sound flippant. Adam didn’t have time to deconstruct the technique in his head, because there was more. "What else?"</p><p>The question was impossibly charged.</p><p>What do you need, Adam? What do you <i>want</i>, Adam?</p><p>"School supplies," he added on, always mindful of every second of pause that passed between them. "And some extras for activities in the program, if they are relevant."</p><p>The second part was nebulous to Adam himself. He wouldn't waste money on a sports club, but what about those fancy pictures of day trips in High Courts and conferences? How much would those cost? </p><p>Unfazed, Declan only tilted his mouth pensively.</p><p>"What about a full boarding program?"</p><p>That was a universe away from the standard tier. It had been on the brochure of course — material, included; extracurricular, included; single room en suite, included; canteen, included.</p><p>For every <i>included</i> he could remember, Adam's mind crowded with the increasing digits of a prospective annual fee. The part of him that would constantly divide everything by his weekly wage — rounded up for as much as he could push it before collapsing — swayed at the prospect of so much money.</p><p>“That would be…” Amazing. Stunning. A dream. “...A welcome possibility, I think.” </p><p>“Undoubtedly an efficient deal, provided that we come to an agreement,” Declan nodded, apparently impervious to a panic that Adam suspected might be blatant on his part. </p><p>It sounded like the type of orderly business transaction that Adam had always associated with a world not governed by violence, grittiness and shouts, and yet he could barely hear Declan over the buzz of his own thoughts. </p><p>Full boarding. Single room en suite, included.</p><p>He could move out. Not in the future, not in two years, not eventually. <i>Now</i>.</p><p>
  <i>Out.</i>
</p><p>“What are the terms of a full-boarding agreement, Mr Lynch, sir?”</p><p>The tilt in Declan’s smile harboured something between amusement and derision. They had been playing a game of poker and Adam had his hand too much in the open. </p><p>“It depends on what you're willing to do, Adam Parrish.”</p><p>Adam breathed in deeply, trying to regain control of his own nerves, willing for the lingering smell of freshly cut grass to clean his head and not make him rush through this sudden luck. Yearning and distrust lodged deeply, side by side, in his sternum — that’s what he got, for being unaccustomed with fortuitous occasions going in his favour.<br/>
In front of him, Declan’s watch ticked over a second, and then another, without his owner pushing for an answer. It was an expensive watch that matched Declan's expensive <i>everything</i>, and the demeanor with which he carried himself as if everything he had was well within his rights. Adam could try and imitate stuff like this, but he would never really get it — because he came from a trailer park and he had to fight for everything, always. He would fight for this too, but what do you give to a man who has all you want to achieve in the world?</p><p>Money usually led to status. Status usually led to power. What none of these could buy was…</p><p>“You would have my loyalty, sir.”</p><p>Declan blinked slowly, as if surprised by such a concise response. “And what does your loyalty entail, Mr Parrish?” </p><p>No one usually called Adam <i>Mr Parrish</i> — only some of his teachers when they wanted to reprimand him, and thus never in a context like this, where the formulation implied respect. </p><p>He could do with respect. The sole idea of it set a flame along Adam’s rib cage, much different from what having a crack in there had felt like. The sensation of it spread wider, deeper, as he caught Declan’s eyes lingering on him, interested even in his pauses.</p><p>“Everything you need, sir,” Adam started off, instinctive more than calculated. Declan had been looking at him — he had been looking at his tie, but then his eyes had dropped lower and trailed back up. Adam wasn’t more used to being interesting than he was to being called Mr Parrish. “Everything you could <i>want</i> from me.”</p><p>The surprise that brushed through Declan’s expression was elating at first — just on the ground of having played a hand that had ruffled him, and his watch, and his suit. Then nervousness caught up in Adam’s brain, because <i>too unexpected</i> could too easily equate to <i>wrong move</i>. </p><p>But before he could worry about having misinterpreted any gaze and unfamiliar signal, Declan laughed — more open, an alluring tilt in his lips — and when he looked at Adam again it was with less subtlety, maybe even an increased interest. </p><p>“Now <i>this</i> is an unforeseen proposition, Adam Parrish.” </p><p>Something in the tone of that <i>unforeseen</i> made the fluster creep up again along Adam’s skin. “I wouldn’t think about it,” he fumbled vaguely with words, feeling too close to justifying how he wouldn’t offer <i>himself</i> on a platter, “Not if I didn’t mean it.”</p><p>“I’m not saying I’m not interested,” Declan reassured, his blue eyes still firmly onto Adam in the quiet chillness of the night. “This might call for a longer negotiation, in a different setting.” </p><p>“I have no problem leaving the reception,” Adam said, trying and most likely failing to quench the earnestness in his voice. </p><p>More than anything else, <i>negotiations</i> in his mind paired with the actual, concrete possibility of getting what he wanted — <i>everything</i> that came with the full boarding option, if he just pitched the mood around Declan’s interest sufficiently. This was worlds ahead of where the evening had started, and more he would have ever dared to imagine. Details were almost secondary.</p><p>Declan's laughter came up again, never really derisive but as if Adam was bringing him onto a rollercoaster with surprising turns.</p><p>"I appreciate the business-ready attitude, Mr Parrish, I genuinely do," he said. His smile was more subtle but also more suggestive in the little pause that followed. He took one step closer, and then another, closing the distance with Adam past the point of gala appropriateness. He wasn't so much taller than Adam but he still managed to make him feel <i>crowded</i>. "But with what you're suggesting we would need a...longer. Negotiation."</p><p>The words were exactly the same but something of the cadence and the deliberate vibrancy left Adam with the marked feeling that this was closer to personal now — even between two strangers. </p><p>Adam swallowed thinly and Declan's eyes followed that movement as well. Then, he produced a business card out of his front pocket and turned it over to Adam.</p><p>"I will most likely be around Henrietta for the rest of the week and if I get a message from you in the morning I will tell you when we're meeting." There was already a project behind the words, and Declan expressed himself as if he assumed it was going to become reality. "So you can also give a thought to the negotiations, it's good practice to adjourn core meetings."</p><p>As his fingers closed around the coarse paper of the card, Adam's mind desperately stumbled upon issue, over issue, over issue.</p><p>To begin with, he didn't have a phone to message Declan with — nor a friend "friend enough" to let him borrow one for something this private. Getting a burner now was out of question.</p><p>If this plan were to work, his punishing line-up of jobs would not be strictly needed anymore, but until it was Adam needed to honour the exchanges he made to have this night paid up.</p><p>And then there was the way Declan's eyes painted a track along the line of Adam's neck, and the causal way in which — as Adam struggled with the possibilities — Declan reached for his crooked tie. The pull was self-assured but composed, enough for Adam to feel it but not invasive nor violent as he straightened up the knot.</p><p><i>I offered everything he might want</i>. Adam thought numbly. <i>He will want to strip me.</i></p><p>The idea settled as a bodily sensation, spreading all the way to his groin in a possibly misplaced arousal. And after the arousal came the helplessness.</p><p>How high was the chance that if Adam waited past this carefully calculated night stripping would expose bruises and cuts and misery?</p><p>If Adam knew his life until this moment, the only answer was: so depressingly high it was almost a certainty.</p><p>"Is there…" he started, cutting off halfway and starting again to steady his voice more. "Is there no way to settle things tonight, Mr Lynch? And discuss more later."</p><p>With two fingers still on Adam's second- or third-hands tie, Declan eyed him carefully. "Settle things."</p><p>"I know what you want, sir." Adam pushed through it, praying within his heart to please, don't ruin it, don't let this be ruined. "And I know that I'm willing."</p><p>The suggestion of frown that creased Declan's forehead made something subconscious in Adam tense — embarrassingly, just before he realised there was no real explosive emotion behind it. That, too, was unfamiliar — unfamiliar and desperately wanted, a sign of a sparkling world where a discussion wasn't rewarded with violence.</p><p>"And you don't think I am," Declan said, matter of factly. Before Adam could interject about it — get a word sideways to clarify that he wasn't doubting Declan's reliability even though a part of him sort of was — Declan waved the hand that didn't hold Adam's tie, and effectively silenced him. "I suppose we can set a different type of common ground tonight. But there is going to be a discussion, with all the recognition of you having already provided something to the negotiation."</p><p>Adam swallowed over nothing, with the disconcerting realisation that the misunderstanding might have worked in his favour. If Declan Lynch kept him tonight the deal was 90% secured, 10% refinable.</p><p>"Yes, Mr Lynch. Thank you, sir."</p><p>"It's a good occasion for you to see one of the dorms, I'm staying on campus tonight," Declan said, the frown dispersed even though his eyebrow still raised at seeing Adam deflating from part of the tension. "Come along, evidently we're leaving the reception after all."</p><p>Declan let go of Adam's tie, uselessly adjusted, and smirked at what Adam could only assume to be his vacant expression.</p><p>Surrounded by an unfamiliar environment and trying to execute a half-baked, unprecedented plan, Adam refused to hesitate further and just followed Declan as he led the way.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Nothing says "Happy Valentine's Day" more than sliding the slippery slope to a sugar daddy!</p><p>All the sexy stuff is in the next chapter, which I will publish next weekend (basically ready and even longer than this part). Stay tuned!</p><p>In the meantime, come and scream at me on <a href="http://seekthemist.tumblr.com">my Tumblr</a>, where the ask box is always open.<br/>Comments, kudos, and candies are always very much appreciated!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. ~2~</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As promised, here we go with the second and final instalment of this fic!</p>
<p>This is basically 6000+ words of porn (albeit with a lot fo buildup) because I have *zero* self-control. So, you might say, it's perfectly on Mist's Brand. <br/>Consider yourself #warned!</p>
<p>As usual, thank you to Tilly for the betaing and for vibing with me all the way through.</p>
<p>And now, dear reader...go off and enjoy your rarepair filth!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/><br/>The dorm room was, predictably, outrageously big. Adam was tangentially aware that if it was being used for a guest to spend a night it might intrinsically be one of the best places Aglionby had to offer, but the fact that the whole living room and kitchen of his family’s trailer would have comfortably fit in this space still burned in its own ways.</p>
<p>For once, however, all the trimmed grass and perfectly polished surfaces and well maintained campus buildings could be <i>Adam’s</i>. It was all within reach, if he kept his cool until the end of tonight.</p>
<p>The shivery breath that threatened to ramp up in his chest seemed to disagree over having any cool to begin with, but Adam swallowed the sensation down and just took in the room — with the clean-cuts of its wooden furniture and the tastefully warm colours of the upholstery.</p>
<p>Declan Lynch was as perfect a complement to this room as he had been for the Crimson Hall, but the presence of what must be his overnight bag and more informal clothes neatly arranged on a chair in the corner made the whole picture disconcertingly personal. The whole sensation only heightened when Declan took off his shoes, with a sort of fastidiousness in his gestures that seemed to suggest he didn’t like outdoor shoes to be used indoors. It was fascinating, in its own way, and at the same time obviously compelling for Adam to follow suit and end up barefoot.</p>
<p>Against one of the walls, the queen sized bed subtly remarked to Adam what he came here to do. Or at least what he had heavily implied he would do.</p>
<p>“Just to be clear,” Declan said as he leaned against one of the drawers, completely relaxed if his tone was anything to go by, “this is not the usual way I wrap up my alumni nights.”</p>
<p>“Well, same here,” Adam replied, feeling a bit defensive — and kind of silly when the actual content of his sentence registered for him. “And not because I’ve never attended any.”</p>
<p>Declan laughed again, with the chuckling undertone that made Adam feel as if they were sharing a joke rather than rolling on a constant wave of awkwardness. “Well,” Declan added, clearly echoing Adam’s opening as he stepped away from the drawer and closer to him, “I would sincerely hope so.”</p>
<p>Part of Adam liked the ease with which Declan was juggling the situation — it was the same part of him that tried to analyse what gave off that sense of ease, exactly, to be able to carry himself exactly like that, one day soon. The other part considered how the exceptionality of the situation didn’t warrant an explanation on exactly how unusual this was for Adam — after all, Declan was interestingly not getting lost in debates about making arrangements with a guy, making arrangements with someone younger, making arrangements with basically a stranger. It would obviously be in poor taste, for Adam to accidentally disclose how knowing that the situation as heading towards sex was not equivalent to knowing how to handle sex.</p>
<p>It couldn’t be that complex, he reasoned. If some of his classmates could manage it and not talk about anything else while being too stupid for their own good, then Adam could figure out the drill. No girl he has ever made out with had any complaints, and he had improvised that as well, after all.</p>
<p>Declan walked slowly up to him, stopping barely an arm length away. His eyes were steady, looking straight into Adam’s. It was unsettling to find no challenge in it — to find, also, that Adam had been expecting it and would have readily looked away to de-escalate — just something quietly analytic that made Adam feel assessed, rather than judged.</p>
<p>“Give me your tie,” Declan asked calmly, after a few long seconds. </p>
<p>It was innocuous enough, but raising a hand to his own throat felt more charged than anything else that came before it — even more than the fast-paced bargain in the garden.</p>
<p>Loosening the tie was not much easier than putting it on, but Declan didn’t seem to have any qualms about the messy way Adam just widened it and then pulled it off. With his palm stretched out in a clear request, Declan accepted the fabric and just took some seconds to undo the knot by himself, rolling up the tie around the flat of his fingers. Then, he put it aside on the dresser, with a controlled tidiness that made something incoherent twist in Adam’s stomach.</p>
<p>“Your jacket,” Declan said, and once more it felt like a request, not a demand.</p>
<p>Adam could see now where this was going.</p>
<p>He undid the two buttons that held his desperate excuse of a suit together and shuffled it off his shoulders, handing it over to Declan.</p>
<p>“Your shirt,” Declan added, as he neatly folded the jacked vertically and laid it flat on top of the drawer.</p>
<p>The shirt that Adam had found at the charity shop was of decent quality but a bit too big for him, but Declan didn’t comment on it. It also took longer for Adam to undo every button, unfamiliar with the friction of this purpose-bought item, but Declan didn’t complain about this either. He folded the shirt too, when Adam handed it over — it was almost preposterous to see him doing it so precisely when everything in Declan seemed to suggest he didn’t even have to <i>wash</i> his own shirts.</p>
<p>Adam’s belt was next, and then his trousers. </p>
<p>The air in the room was not cold at all, but a thin shiver ran along Adam’s skin nonetheless as he stood in front of Declan, the majority of his clothes perfectly arranged away from his body.</p>
<p>He nervously braced for the only request Declan could possibly have left, ready to take off his boxers — truly his own, embarrassingly worn out — but it never came.</p>
<p>Instead, Declan’s hands came up to Adam’s sides, lingering. When Adam did not shy away, regardless of the tension threatening his spine, Declan’s fingers spread along his forearms, from the wrists upwards with barely more of his fingertips as a point of contact. When he stroked upwards the touch was just as delicate, and even like that there was a spot midway along Adam’s biceps and another one on the round of his shoulder when Adam felt the contact more sharply than it made sense to. The slide downwards only heightened the sensation, making Adam’s left arm twitch reflexively. </p>
<p>A thin smile quirked Declan’s lips, as he kept looking at Adam. It was persistent but not really intrusive enough to make Adam feel like a specimen under observation — though something in the delicate quality of Declan’s touches lingered towards reassuring a small, nervous animal. Adam was never easily reassured, and possibly more nervous than his baseline level, but as Declan’s hands circled around his wrists and then moved to his waist he could only be glad he planned this so well. He still had some scratches waiting to heal fully but they were nothing a PE lesson couldn’t account for. And at least nothing hurt when his stomach jumped away from the messy circle Declan traced over it with the tip of four fingers. The other hand slid around his side and pressed on the low of Adam’s back, bringing him back into full contact at the front. </p>
<p>Adam didn’t know what to make of the sensation of it, of the way it spread warmly and never sharpened up with pain afterwards. No one ever touched him like this, attentive and pleasant, and his body felt different with the whole palm of Declan’s hand fitting on the curve of his spine and the tip of his fingertips tracing the profile of Adam’s ribs. It made Adam feel alien to himself, like a machine forced to perform just slightly outside its boundaries. Even the little sigh that heaved out of his mouth didn’t feel like his own — and yet the blood steadily redirecting between his legs was definitely, <i>definitely</i> his own. </p>
<p>“Could you undo my shirt?”</p>
<p>Declan’s voice was low and intimate, and apart from that completely unaffected. Adam realised he had averted his gaze only when the question prompted him to look back up. For all his composure, the focus of Declan’s eyes surely spoke of <i>interest</i>. It made Adam swallow thinly, almost drily, even as he nodded and went to loosen Declan’s tie. </p>
<p>As awkward as it was to maneuver around like this, Adam found himself too distracted by the slide of Declan’s fingers on his shoulder blades to care — even as it made him twitch despite his best efforts, especially when Declan’s hand seemed to turn and the stroke that followed was with the bend of his knuckles. He only caught up with himself when Declan’s shirt was half undone, with the tie still hooked loosely around Declan’s neck, and there was nothing more to be done — not unless Adam were to pull the shirt out of Declan’s trousers, which was a mental picture that coiled weirdly in his stomach.</p>
<p>Fully dressed up, Declan was evidently tall, nicely broad. Half stripped, there was a definition of muscles in his chest that made Adam’s fingers tingle with the sudden desire of touching along them just to know how it would feel. Another part of Adam was inevitably sour with self-consciousness — of how lean he must look in comparison, of how Declan must have never gone to bed hungry for days on end, even though the effort of three physical jobs firmed up Adam’s body nonetheless. </p>
<p>The sudden loss of Declan’s touch both on his chest and along his spine rang through Adam’s brain more than the belated realisation that Declan must have seen him <i>looking</i>. He hadn’t known what to do with those hands, he still didn’t, and yet he wanted them back on his skin with disconcerting clarity.</p>
<p>Unfazed by all of Adam’s internal turmoil, Declan elegantly shook off the jacket from his shoulders. He then proceeded to toss it away on the dresser, landing on top of Adam’s worthless, but neatly folded clothes. There was no disdainfulness in Declan’s movements, but a resoluteness Adam could only blink at, as the tie came undone under Declan’s fingers and the shirt was finally pulled out of Declan’s trousers. Only then, prompted by a humorous lift of Declan’s left eyebrow, Adam remembered to free the last buttons as well. </p>
<p>Adam didn’t follow the shirt as it was discarded, too busy witnessing the outrageously attractive and blatantly resourceful stranger in front of him, with way too much skin on display to be someone he had only met hours before. </p>
<p>Being attracted to men was no news, not since the second semester of Freshman year when Adam’s classroom got a substitute maths teacher for a couple of weeks. Adam, who had already been struggling with locker room thoughts, had just resigned himself to how <i>insanely hot</i> the guy had been. But he had never been in a situation in which he could just act upon it — in which he very much <i>should</i> act upon it — without an ingrained fear of the consequences. </p>
<p>Adam’s desire was a shapeless, radiating <i>want</i>, all too easy to feel but confusing to try and manifest — not if he couldn’t pause this same moment and dissect it until it made rational sense. Luckily for both of them, Declan was not fazed by Adam’s hesitation and seemed to have a clear idea of what exactly he would like to do, step by step. </p>
<p>Declan closed the distance between them almost completely, and bent his head down towards Adam’s shoulder. The tip of his nose brushed Adam’s skin, followed by the dry smoothness of his lips, trailing the path to the bend of Adam’s neck. The sensation was intense like a spark, and with it came the realisation that Adam had never been this close, this <i>intimate</i> with anyone. A part of him wanted to flinch away, but he didn’t — and it made his breath tremble, to feel Declan’s lips over his pulse. </p>
<p>Adam realised he had grasped blindly at Declan’s right arm only when he heard Declan huff, a subdued version of the entertained laughter that had appeared multiple times before this. Before Adam could reconsider his gesture, Declan’s left hand stroked his back again — his full palm in contact, this time — stopping tantalisingly at the edge of Adam’s boxers and looping the arm around him, hugging him closer. </p>
<p>There was less than a hand’s width between their faces when Declan lifted his head. An almost nauseous excitement prickled along the roof of Adam’s mouth — too used to proximity as a prologue for violence, and too attracted by the intent depth of Delcan’s eyes at the same time. For a moment, Adam almost thought he knew what came next — something akin to the rushed and messy kisses he exchanged at the back of the gym after school, never to be spoken of again after the crest of hormones had passed. Then Declan craned his head again and bent towards the other side of Adam’s neck, kissing him there instead. </p>
<p>The symmetry of the gesture didn’t make up for how <i>thorough</i> this was — for how smooth Declan’s lips were, for the warmth of his breath, and for the tantalising brush of his skin against Adam’s. Adam tilted his chin up when Declan moved to kiss his throat and map his way back to where he had started. His breath was caught in his throat, almost afraid to disturb Declan, but it was difficult not to make it waver when both of Declan’s hands caressed at the side of his spine. Adam’s cock was stiff in his boxers and Declan just slid his mouth lower, to kiss at the tense skin over Adam’s clavicles. </p>
<p>Adam groaned, there. He couldn’t help it. </p>
<p>Declan guided Adam’s hips subtly forward with a slide of hands towards the low of Adam’s back, and kept mouthing at him. One of his firm, clothed thighs was there to part Adam’s legs, just enough that friction followed. </p>
<p>This was not the way Adam was used to handling his body — sensations rising in sparks along his skin and in his brain. It felt nice, he supposed, but everything was over-exposed like a bright spring day. By the time he managed to drag another full breath into his lungs, his hands were clasping at Declan’s naked shoulders — and having someone else’s skin to touch was good, too.</p>
<p>Something pressed at the side of Adam’s hips, and like an afterthought he realised that Declan was hard, too. </p>
<p>Adam shut his eyes tight, just for a second. It didn’t make anything easier to process.</p>
<p>“Would you like,” Declan whispered, lips and words brushing against Adam’s earlobe, “to take off my trousers?”</p>
<p>Disconcertingly enough, it didn’t quite sound like a rhetorical question. Not that Adam very much knew what to do with the possibility of backtracking — not with all that was at stake, even less so given the reflexive twitch of his cock against Declan’s leg at the prospect of seeing this guy naked in a <i>private</i> setting.</p>
<p>“Okay, yeah...fine.” Adam swallowed deep and dropped his forehead on Declan’s shoulder. It was a good way to have visual, as he dropped a hand to the pearly button of the trousers of Declan’s suit — but he was also too aware of the shared warmth and the closeness, itching across Adam’s skin like a rash.  </p>
<p>Once the zipper was down and the perfectly tailored fabric hung loose around Declan’s hips, Declan dragged his leg away from between Adam’s with an all-too-purposeful friction. Before Adam could really process the loss, Declan let the trousers fall off to the ground, stepping out of one leg and kicking off the other with an annoying smoothness in his movements. Or at least, Adam would have found it annoying — if only he weren’t actually too distracted by the stark contrast of dark, tight fitting boxers, and the even paleness of Declan’s skin. The fabric was full and tense over Declan’s erection. Adam sighed, shaky, unable to pry his eyes away.</p>
<p>“Give me your hand.” </p>
<p>Declan’s voice came low and rough, almost vibrating in the silence that had been left between them. It was barely enough to snap Adam away from his stupor, and he still blinked drily when he went back to look at Declan. Throat tight in anticipation, Adam lifted his hand as an offer in the narrow space between them. His shoulders twitched, inadvertently, when Declan wrapped his fingers around Adam’s wrist, turning Adam’s hand palm up. There was nothing violent in it, but it was the firmest Declan had ever touched him so far, and something about it stirred along the chaos in Adam’s mind. </p>
<p>Slowly, Declan guided Adam’s hand against his own body. The tip of Adam’s fingertips skirted on the taut skin over Declan’s abdominal muscles, then the whole palm of his hand followed. Adam had barely one second to appreciate the sensation, before Declan guided him downwards, suggestive. His fingers brushed the edge of Declan’s boxers, and Adam curled them just so, enough that the fabric creased and then welcomed him inside. </p>
<p>There was something obscene about the warmth, and Adam’s stretched fingers were pressed between a thickening patch of hair and the firm outline of Declan’s cock. </p>
<p>Adam realised Declan had let go of his wrist and that he was again staring directly at Declan’s crotch only when Declan let out a little huffy breath. It was a sound of pleasure, of tension, even though Declan’s hips barely canted. Adam’s brain rang empty and silent, overcome by the tactile heat. He turned his hand around and grasped at Declan’s erection. </p>
<p>The angle was awkward, strained, but Declan’s cock still slid nicely against Adam’s palm, the tip of it nudging at the ball of Adam’s hand. Adam wasn’t quite sure he was breathing, choking on excitement. </p>
<p>He had never touched someone else’s cock. Actually, there were often entire weeks in which he was too exhausted to even touch his <i>own</i> cock. And yet, now, the sensation of it was the only thing that rang in Adam’s brain — how hot it was, how silky the skin felt. How long. How thick. How <i>hard</i>. </p>
<p>The boxers were stretched in a tense vee from Declan’s hip bones all around Adam’s knuckles. The only thing more appealing than the sight of it in the shadow of their bodies was the ravenous glimpse in Declan’s eyes when Adam lifted his own. Adam tightened his grip reflexively and Declan inhaled sharply, lips thinning. </p>
<p>With a swift movement, Declan lowered his own boxers past the curve of his buttocks, leaving Adam free to readjust his hand and find a better angle. </p>
<p>The view was also clearer, like this, and Adam obsessed over it. His hand felt dry against the delicate skin of Declan’s cock, and Adam’s movements were stilted and uncertain. </p>
<p>Declan’s hips rocked more purposefully against the touch, taking it for his pleasure. A little throaty moan rang between them, far from a complaint, as Declan lifted a hand and closed it around Adam’s nape as if to give himself leverage. </p>
<p>Something in Adam’s stomach coiled with such a charged excitement he almost wanted to curl over himself to let it dissipate a second. </p>
<p>The rhythm built up just enough for Adam to get mesmerised by the steady work of Declan’s muscles. Then, as eagerly as he had been guiding Adam’s efforts, Declan stepped back and away from the touch. </p>
<p>Declan was breathing heavily, but so was Adam. All he had eyes for was Declan’s cock — hard and in full display over his lowered boxers, arched towards his belly. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do, what was the plan. Adam couldn’t <i>think</i> like this, and his own cock throbbed pitifully. </p>
<p>With a hand dragging along his hair, Declan let out another deep breath, as if to calm himself — though his eyes on Adam were as intent as before. “Mary mother of Jesus…”</p>
<p>It was a peculiar shade of cursing, but Adam’s brain didn’t catch on it enough to analyse it. Definitely not when Declan followed up by lowering his boxers on the floor completely and stepping away from it. It ought to be illegal to be this attractive and this comfortable in your own skin. </p>
<p>“Get on the bed?” Declan directed — asked, actually, this time — when Adam failed to provide something more intelligent.</p>
<p>The sight of the bed, queen-sized and impeccably done, was sobering like an icy shower in the trailer.</p>
<p>Adam had negotiated for <i>everything, anything</i>, and that had brought him here. </p>
<p>He sat down at the edge of the mattress, gingerly, and then promptly got back up again when he pictured his body on the impeccably done duvet. He uncovered the bed, and the expanse of clean, white sheets ironed to perfection only made him feel more obscene. Shivering, throbbing, kissed and stroked. Still, he got back on the bed. </p>
<p>A few feet away, Declan was smirking as if he knew exactly the train of thought in Adam’s mind. And he was naked. So naked, and beautiful, and hard — for Adam, apparently.</p>
<p>There were worse things to bargain for. Definitely worse sex partners to have. </p>
<p>Declan took a step forward, and then another.</p>
<p>Years of locker room chatters rushed through Adam’s mind at impossible speed. </p>
<p>
  <i>Suck my dick. Fuck your throat. Make you gag. </i>
</p>
<p>Maybe Declan would grab him by the nape again and get his cock in Adam’s mouth. There was something not completely nauseating about the thought, but the violence in the musings of his peers was not that attractive.</p>
<p>And of course, there was all the rest.</p>
<p><i>Fuck your ass. Break you open.</i> </p>
<p>That was going to hurt. But it was the reality of sex between men. Adam could take it — if there was one thing he learned the hard way was that he could <i>always</i> take it. He would give Declan the power to hurt him to his satisfaction, but once the deed was done there would be more ahead than just waiting for the next time. </p>
<p>“You want to keep your underwear on?” </p>
<p>Declan’s voice broke the spin of Adam’s thoughts. It was even worded differently than the previous invitations, and Adam had no idea of how he managed to make it sound like such a <i>genuine</i> question. </p>
<p>“Uhm...no, it’s...of course, sorry,” he scrambled to answer, ungluing his tongue from his palate.</p>
<p>It took a couple of uncoordinated movements and awkwardly abandoning his underwear at the foot of the bed for Adam to realise his cock was only half hard. Declan was looking at him too closely for this drop in arousal not to be noticeable. Every muscle in Adam’s nape stiffened as Declan’s eyebrow raised, quizzically. </p>
<p>“Sorry,” Adam rushed to say, again — as if he didn’t hate the sound of it. But he had to stop whatever Declan was about to say. “It’s just that I…” </p>
<p><i>I’m nervous</i>. Definitely not. </p>
<p><i>I’ve never done this before</i>. Probably to avoid. </p>
<p><i>I don’t know what to do if this goes wrong</i>. No chance in hell.</p>
<p>“...it’s really not the way I spend my evenings,” was what tumbled out of Adam’s mouth. It flustered him nonetheless, but at least it won a half smile from Declan. Still, Adam spoke again before any contrary verdict could come. “No big deal, really.”</p>
<p>Still sitting on the bed, Adam grabbed his cock and gave it a stroke. </p>
<p>The sensation of it expanded warm and tentative, but Adam was determined to exorcise whatever cold shower of thoughts just set off this unnecessary theatre. Declan was still standing next to the bed, but his expression spoke more of interest and surprise than annoyance. Adam could work with it. And he could work <i>himself</i> with it, because Declan’s eyes were very blue, and his hair was losing its composure, and he was <i>very</i> naked. Getting hot for him was so easy that Adam’s cock should never have flagged in the first place. </p>
<p>“Talk about commitment…” Declan commented, at the first occasion to get a word in sideways. </p>
<p>The way Declan’s eyes lingered on Adam’s hand between his legs stirred a new wave of excitement, only heightened by Declan reaching for Adam’s face again. This time, Declan’s right hand spanned the whole side of Adam’s jaw — warm fingers brushing behind the lobe of his ear, and the eloquent pressure of a thumb under his chin guided Adam to keep his head lifted. </p>
<p>For a second, Adam was sure he was going to be told to open his mouth and welcome Declan’s cock inside. The shiver that ran down his spine wasn’t quite as opposed to the idea as all of those locker room talks would have implied — even though Declan was nicely endowed and plenty stiff. But Declan just stared at him for some long seconds as Adam distractedly stroked himself with no semblance of rhythm — and when he moved again, it was not for a blowjob. </p>
<p>There was a long caress on the span of Adam’s neck, tracing all the places that Declan had already kissed. The touch slippered down over the line of Adam’s clavicles, and then his sternum. It was just the tip of Declan’s fingers and yet a spell of goosebumps followed — even more so as Declan kept Adam’s head up and regarded him attentively. The width of Declan’s palm followed his fingertips, and there was a long, gentle stroke along Adam’s chest that made him hold his breath again. </p>
<p>The first, flat brush against his pectorals was basically inconsequential, when compared to the uneven pulls that Adam was still giving to his dick. Then Declan curled his fingers and pinched at Adam’s nipple. It was firm and perfectly still, at first — enough for Adam’s back to tense under the unfamiliar sensation of it. But then Declan’s thumb flickered around it and rubbed, again and again until Adam’s skin hardened under this touch. The feeling grew with it, spreading, until it snapped from interesting to pleasurable in one sudden transition. </p>
<p>“Nhn…” </p>
<p>Adam’s shoulders jumped on his own volition, and he figured he had gotten distracted under Declan’s gaze only when the pressure of Declan’s touch relented. The groan still lingered between them, and Declan let it — just a second, enough to let it sink in with a smirk. When he pinched at Adam once more, it felt harder — or maybe Adam was just primed for it. His hips twitched at the electric sensation of it. </p>
<p>When Declan fingers loosened again, Adam was painfully hard again. </p>
<p>Something smug settled in Declan’s little smile. “Lovely,” he declared. If possible, it made Adam even <i>harder</i>. </p>
<p>Remembering what had twisted Adam’s thoughts some minutes earlier was difficult. Everything spun in a different kind of coil, even as Declan stepped away again. </p>
<p>The detour was brief this time — but equally naked, and hard, and confident. Adam blinked with a low sigh as Declan fished something out of his overnight bag and proceeded to toss it on the bed with a smooth motion. The tube was an inconspicuous white and blue, but Adam recognised a cream lubricant when he saw one — even if it looked like pharmacy grade, three budgets away from the unbranded vaseline Adam rationed every fall and winter. At least it snapped Adam out of his stillness. This time, though, his cock remained shamelessly hard even when Adam let it go gingerly. </p>
<p>When Declan climbed on the bed as well, his eyes were just as intent on Adam. Yet, there was something probing in them — a subtle checking of the waters that Adam would have not recognised as such if he weren’t so used to constantly, painstakingly, trying to survive by the same means. Being at the other end of it was irritating, and full of inherent dangers — no matter how naked, how excited, and how involved Declan looked, he could still <i>back off</i> from all of this and call it a fluke.</p>
<p>Reaching for Declan and dragging him closer was the only thing Adam could muster to dispel the tension. It seemed to work, as Declan let himself slot against Adam’s side and nosed up the side of his neck, placing a wet and open kiss on the protruding bone behind Adam’s ear. </p>
<p><i>Nakedness</i> was the only thing in Adam’s mind, suddenly.</p>
<p>His skin was bare against Declan’s body, and Declan was bare underneath Adam’s touch. It was warm, organic, and Adam’s very bones screamed in foreign longing for it. It felt nice, he wanted it, and it made him shiver. He didn’t know what to do with his hands over the pulsing rush of blood that pressed, loud, conjured by Declan’s lips and breath. Declan didn’t seem to be fazed by it.</p>
<p>Not even the clack of the lube cap was enough to dispel the spiral of sensations that were returning in full force to drown Adam. </p>
<p>“Mhn…” he gasped, as cold liquid dripped all over his thighs. The sound readily choked in his mouth as Declan’s hands followed suit, much warmer and solid. </p>
<p>“Cold?”</p>
<p>“Yeah…”</p>
<p>Much easier to admit that than trying to elaborate on how much more lips and tongue Adam craved, on how much he wanted the slippery spread of Declan’s palms to climb up <i>higher</i> on his thighs. </p>
<p>“It’ll warm up soon,” Declan said, and it didn’t sound like a reassurance. There was something filthy in the undertone that made Adam tense towards the touch, even as he nodded in response.</p>
<p>Looking down at his own legs to just try and focus on the reality of the touch rather than his perception of it didn’t really help. The lube left a glistening sheen as Declan spread it suggestively upwards. It heightened all the sparks that ignited Adam’s nerves without even the counter of friction. The spasm of Adam’s muscles in reaction was blatant even as he tried to stay still, even more so when Declan’s fingers drew slippery circles in the inside of Adam’s thighs. The skin in the inner part felt smoothly sensitive, and Adam’s cock twitched in the charged anticipation of what would come if Declan’s were to slide just a bit higher. </p>
<p>Or maybe that would not happen, Adam’s ass was just there, Declan might just work towards fucking him now. And if so, this was it, <i>it was it</i>. </p>
<p>Declan slid a hand all the way up, and wrapped it firmly around Adam’s cock.</p>
<p>“Oh, fuck!” </p>
<p>It was three thousand times better than any nervous touch Adam had ever bestowed on himself, frictionless with lube and tight in a way that made him cant towards the touch. </p>
<p>“I’ll take it as an encouragement,” Declan said, seemingly entertained by how few syllables Adam had managed to line up since they entered this room. </p>
<p>Declan propped himself up on one knee, looming over Adam, with one of Adam’s arms still around his shoulders. The movement made Adam slide backwards, and somehow laying down on the mattress increased the raising tension in his stomach. Up close, Declan looked evidently aroused, genuine in a way that ran like a crack through a porcelain mask. It was usually distressing, to see someone’s true character seeping through, because that often meant hideousness hid underneath — but Adam found he liked what he was seeing, instinctually. </p>
<p>Or maybe Adam’s cock liked what he was seeing, it was difficult to differentiate when everything was slippery and warm. </p>
<p>Declan’s touch was steady and competent in a way that made Adam feel close to snapping any second, but reflexively trying to squirm away only resulted in a hand pressing on the inside of his thigh — keeping him spread, encouraging him to take it.</p>
<p>“Ah...ah!...Wait…” He clasped a hand around Declan’s forearm, halting the movements just enough to take a full breath in. Declan had a nerve to sport a quizzical expression, as if asking Adam to elaborate. “Gonna come…” Adam confessed, tensely. </p>
<p>Declan’s quizzical expression didn’t loosen, nor did his grip on Adam’s cock, but at least he was not stroking him anymore. He smiled, a bit devious. “And what if you do?”</p>
<p>“I…” Adam stammered. The question didn’t make any sense. “I shouldn’t be...the only one?”</p>
<p>The probing tone wasn’t intentional but it was difficult to convey anything, let alone something eloquent. If it were to be easy, Adam would probably be doing something with himself now — something more compelling. They weren’t here <i>for him</i>, and he definitely was not supposed to be so easily swept away. </p>
<p>“Mmhn.” The sound was noncommittal, as Declan ran his gaze all over Adam’s body. He did let go of Adam’s cock, though — which left Adam with very ambivalent feelings — and his touch slid again towards Adam’s thighs, still embarrassingly slick with lube. “Interesting argument…”</p>
<p>Under Declan’s stare, Adam felt too intellectually close to a deer in the headlights. Which was stupid, and self-sabotaging, because Adam was getting <i>what he wanted</i>. Grappling messily for a new bargaining tool, Adam blurted out, “I could suck you off.” </p>
<p>Declan hummed pleasantly, a reflexive twitch in his hips, but still didn’t look persuaded. “That would put me in your same situation.”</p>
<p>It wouldn’t, because it wasn’t <i>the same</i>, but Adam did not have time to advance this protest. </p>
<p>With a firm grip at the bend of Adam’s left knee, Declan turned Adam to his side and let himself lay down on the bed as well. </p>
<p>“What…?” Adam’s own question wasn’t even fully formed, and he lost his train of thought again as Declan hugged him closer to his chest. </p>
<p>He was still naked, still warm, still strong and solid in a way that kept echoing with marvel through Adam’s mind and body. It didn’t help that Declan slid his right arm between Adam’s neck and the mattress just to be able to press him more firmly backwards. It helped even less that Declan’s lips were right against Adam’s ear when he spoke again.</p>
<p>“Keep your legs closed.”</p>
<p>There was a slow drag against the curve of Adam’s buttocks, and then something slid in the slippery space between Adam’s inner thighs, pressing maddingly against the sensitive skin of his sack. Looking down on himself, between the sheets and the shadow cast by his own body, Adam’s cock was shamelessly aroused. And the tip of Declan’s cock peeked from between his legs, slick with lube. </p>
<p>“Ohmygo…<i>nhrg</i>!”</p>
<p>A firm movement of Declan behind him, and his cock rocked slowly backwards and then forward again. </p>
<p>“Tighter, Adam.” The directive was again right against Adam’s ear and obeying was a reflex.</p>
<p>The very act of pressing his thighs together stirred something low in Adam’s belly. The feeling of <i>Declan’s cock</i> snug in between and pressing its way in and out of the narrow path between them was something else altogether. </p>
<p>Adam wasn’t so sure he was breathing, and the fire in his lungs expanded in pulses, following the same pace of Declan’s thrusts. A building sound of skin slippering against skin layered between them, and Adam could only stare at the white sheet and the unfamiliar room around him and <i>feel it</i>. </p>
<p>He didn’t know what to do with this — he had never even <i>contemplated</i> this — and yet he wanted more. </p>
<p>Tensing his legs more made his muscles tingle and lodged Declan’s cock against each and any sensitive spot at the same time. A little choke in Declan’s breath against the bend of Adam’s neck was as much of a reward as the bruising grip on his hips — keeping him in place for Declan to move as he pleased. </p>
<p>He was so hard, and Declan felt even harder between his legs. Rocking back and forth made the tension even thicker, and an open kiss against his neck fried Adam’s nerves at the edges. He swallowed a sound, and planted a hand down on the mattress to hold himself a bit steadier. </p>
<p>“You’re very quiet,” Declan’s voice rumbled right behind the shell of Adam’s ear. “It’s hot.” </p>
<p>A small sound escaped Adam’s lips at that alone, but it ramped higher to a full moan a second after, as yet another sharp sensation spread all over his chest. </p>
<p>“Nh...Ah!”</p>
<p>Declan went from pressing against Adam’s chest with the hand that surrounded him — keeping them snug together — to brush against the stiffness of Adam’s nipples. The sound, and the way Adam almost tried to squirm away from the touch, only seemed to encite Declan further. He flickered his fingers, like a trill on a tense cord, and when Adam gasped again Declan took hold of his nipple and rubbed it between his fingertips. It was firm, not quite all gentle, and it made Adam’s head spin as Declan’s hips kept thrusting, and thrusting, against his ass. </p>
<p>“Sir, please...ah…” Adam’s voice barely sounded like his own, and he didn’t even know what he was asking for. </p>
<p>“<i>Declan</i>...but if you want to call me ‘sir’ in bed we can discuss it."</p>
<p>The layered undertones in Declan’s reply only exacerbated the trembling in Adam’s body. It would have been easier, perhaps, if they were looking at each other — it would have helped Adam stay focused, surely — but like this there was only an electric line flashing between his nipples, his thighs and his cock, and pressing his nape back against Declan’s shoulder was not enough to help. </p>
<p>“Declan, sir…’s too much…”</p>
<p>Declan laughed against Adam’s hair, the sound of it unabashed and completely different from any other laughter Adam had heard from him. That, too, managed to make Adam’s cock twitch. </p>
<p>“Okay then,” Declan groaned. He did relent his torment on Adam’s nipples, but he also turned them completely over — slow but deliberate, the weight of his body pressing Adam’s face-down on the mattress. </p>
<p>The next thrust of Declan’s cock between Adam’s thighs was shallower, but harder. Adam’s desperate erection rubbed against the smooth bedsheet, and trying to clench his teeth against the sound that bubbled out of him ended up not being an option — not with Declan hooking a thumb over Adam’s lower teeth. </p>
<p>Once again, Adam could only grapple at the mattress and listen to the sound that every movement stripped out of him — more choked, now, but also more heartfelt, both because of the pressure on top of him that somehow made everything even <i>realer</i>. </p>
<p>He quivered, feeling his orgasm mounting. Declan must have registered it too, because he let go of Adam’s jaw before Adam could drool all over his fingers. The pressure all around his cock and the slippery, persistent drag against his balls were already overwhelming enough — then Declan moved his hand and planted it between Adam’s shoulder blades. Pinned down completely, the growing urgency of Declan’s movements leveraged on Adam’s own body ricocheting through each and every nerve end. </p>
<p>A part of Adam’s brain was sure it would go on forever, and rejoiced in the delirious idea — all of the contact, all of the warm, a firm and pleasurable and oh-so-foreign chaos. </p>
<p>Then Declan slid his free hand all the way down Adam’s back, enticing yet another fit of goosebumps. Without any warning, his spit-wet thumb slid in the crack of Adam’s ass and pressed against his hole. At the next rocking of Declan against him, there was yet another rubbing — and this, too, was unbelievably sensitive, more suggestive than invasive. </p>
<p>Adam lasted one thrust, and then another, before his body just gave into it completely. His orgasm propagated right from the spot where Declan’s cock was nested and then quivered all across his body, tunneling Adam’s vision into a spotted, disoriented madness.</p>
<p>Declan kept moving, exacerbating every pleasure with the constant, continuous friction. </p>
<p>Adam heard himself moaning brokenly, and didn’t even care, dropping his forehead down on the mattress. </p>
<p>He cherished the low, keening sound that came from behind him, though. Declan’s hips jerked two, three times, and the next hectic slide between Adam’s thighs grew obscenely wetter, slowing to a stop. </p>
<p>When Declan moved away from him and slouched down on the bed as well, Adam found himself missing the grounding, weighty warm, even though he could barely get his breath and his heart to calm down as it was. </p>
<p>Laying next to him with sweaty hair and overly bright eyes, Declan looked much younger than he had in the Crimson Hall — but just as handsome, and ten times more seductive. Adam liked the ragged sound of Declan’s breath almost as much as he liked the shivering aftershocks of pleasure that kept his own skin alive, still. </p>
<p>How he had ended up like this, from the beginning of the evening, was beyond comprehension, and surely beyond what his brain was currently capable of processing. </p>
<p>When Declan spoke again, it felt as if no time had passed, even more so since neither of them had moved an inch. But Adam’s skin didn’t feel on fire anymore and he was, despite it all, very much aware of the wet spot under his crotch — from his own cock and the mess that Declan left between his legs.</p>
<p>“You could stay for the rest of the night,” Declan told him, pulling himself up slowly. “I’ll go talk to the secretary in the morning.”</p>
<p>For the boarding arrangement, Adam realised suddenly. Declan will go to talk to the secretary to finalise Adam’s admission with a <i>full boarding arrangement</i>. </p>
<p>Adam’s stomach whooped as the thought settled in. It was probably a testament of how fried his brain was, if his cock twitched reflexively, even though there was nothing sexy about bureaucracy. But this bureaucracy came with the outline of Declan’s body — a whole new realm of opportunities and mind-blowing discovery nested inside of it. </p>
<p>Still, when he opened his mouth to answer, Adam almost had the instinct of saying that he couldn’t — because he never could, escaping hell was never an option for him. But then he stopped in his tracks, with the luxury of weighing the options. As far as his parents were concerned, he was working tonight — no one would be expecting him even less than they would normally be. And from tomorrow morning onwards, he would not matter if he didn’t get home in time to see what hell awaited for him — he wouldn’t matter <i>anymore</i>.</p>
<p>“I could stay, yes,” he pronounced the words slowly, almost tasting them. “Thank you...Declan.”</p>
<p>Declan smirked over the careful pronunciation of his own name, and reached out to smooth Adam’s hair away from his face. It was an inconspicuous gesture, and yet it tingled all the way through Adam’s overreacting skin. </p>
<p>“Brilliant. Come over to the bathroom when you feel like it,” Declan directed with ease, sliding out of the bed and walking, gloriously naked, towards the ensuite bathroom. </p>
<p>Adam gave himself a long second, eyes closed and heartbeat echoing in against his eardrums. Then he pushed himself up, and went to follow his new sponsor.<br/><br/><br/></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you very much for reading!</p>
<p>I hope this was satisfactory and meets your expectations, I'm always curious to know :eyes:</p>
<p>Kudos, comments, and flying items of clothing are always very much appreciated!<br/>You can also find me on <a href="http://seekthemist.tumblr.com">my Tumblr</a>, where the ask box is always open.</p>
<p>Just so you know, this Adam/Declan scenario basically comes with a whole universe as a baggage. I do not exclude me coming back with further instalments of it (one filthier than the other :P) </p>
<p>Until next time!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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